


Yuuri Meets His Biggest Fan!!! Post Grand Prix Final In Gotham

by Cy_kun



Series: Gotham!!! On Ice [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Future Fic, Just Roll With It, M/M, Some Humor, Tim is Not Having It, Victor is totally into it, both are somewhat in the background, both relationships are established, but a vague future, i basically just wanted to write Jason being a huge Yuuri Katsuki fanboy, now with epilogue!, post-canon for yoi, so i did, the GPF is in Gotham this year but it's only mentioned, who knows!, why is victor still skating this far into the future?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cy_kun/pseuds/Cy_kun
Summary: “Fuck no! Who watches that shit?” Tim sighed. He should have— “I'm talking about figure skating.”Tim is very lucky he's not currently swinging from building to building, because he would surely have fallen to his death.“Seriously?”“Yeah,” Jason said, with a large helping of Duh scooped into the top.“Huh.”Maybe the jock/nerd ratio wasn't as screwed up as he thought.Or, Jason Todd meets his idol.No one escapes unscathed.





	1. Chapter 1

Tim very rarely has a problem with patrol. Tonight is the exception. Even though it's a mostly quiet night and all the big bads are locked up in Arkham for once, there's no way tonight can be called anything remotely close to peaceful because—

“ _I can't_ believe _I'm missing it._ ”

Yeah. That.

“I know, Jason,” Tim said into his comm. “I heard you the first 87 times.”

Which, okay, kind of a lie. What Tim really meant was he's _tuned him out_ 87 times because, really? Look, Tim's had to miss important things for patrol before, so he kind of gets it. But the emphasis is on _important_. Things like the season finale of his favorite TV shows or DnD night at Titans Tower. Never—

“ _Do you know how rare it is to get sports that aren't football to show up in this shithole? And this is the Final, Tim. The_ Final _. I cannot_ believe _I'm missing this.”_

Yeah. That.

Sports.

Tim shuddered.

Because, he'd been implicitly promised a certain level of jock to nerd ratio when he started dating Jason. Because while Jason looks like a fallback or a linequarter or whatever the Big Muscley Guys in the football lineup are called, he's actually a giant dork. He reads Harry Potter, cosplays, and he's even guest DM'd DnD night a few times. (Tim adores his sessions, his plots are so intricate and he never lets Bart bog down the game by seducing everything that they're supposed to fight.) Hearing Jason go on and on about sports is ruining Tim's ratios. It's so...frustrating.

“— _best skater in the world and I'm missing what could be his best performance_ ever _and_ —”

One of those words brought Tim out of his self-imposed mental exile.

“Wait,” he said. “Did you say skater?”

“ _Uh, yeah?_ ”

“Like...skateboarding?”

“ _Fuck no! Who watches that shit?_ ” Tim sighed. He should have— “ _I'm talking about_ figure skating _._ ”

Tim is very lucky he's not currently swinging from building to building, because he would surely have fallen to his death.

“Seriously?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Jason said, with a large helping of Duh scooped into the top.

“Huh.”

Maybe the jock/nerd ratio wasn't as screwed up as he thought.

He didn't have much time to think about it though; a scream ripped through the night, drawing them both back into vigilante mode.

“Hood.”

“ _Got it, it came from over here._ ”

Tim let out an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can't see you, Hood. You can't just say over he—”

The sound of gunshots came from a nearby alley.

“Never mind.”

Tim fired off a line, but he knew it'd be over by the time he got there. And he was right. Jason was standing in the alley, surrounded by four thugged up guys on the ground, unmoving. There were no obvious gaping wounds, so Jason had kept his promise about using rubber bullets. Near the mouth of the alley were three men, all pale and in various degrees of shock, probably foreign tourists judging by the blond one's “Russia” jacket. Tim sighed again and let himself fall to the ground. All three tourists flinched at his sudden appearance.

“You couldn't even save one for me?” Tim complained.

“Gotta be faster, babybird.” Tim could almost _see_ the sexy, infuriating smirk through his helmet. “Besides, if my fun gets ruined, so does yours.”

_Why do I find you charming?_

With a sigh, he turned to deal with the victims. Batman knows Jason would just make their trauma worse.

_Okay, what do we have. Three white males...no, two white males and a...Japanese male? Yeah, that's a Japanese flag on his jacket. A Russian, a Japanese, and a...wow he's hot. A Russian, a Japanese, and a silver haired demi god walk into a bar...heh. Wow I really need sleep._

He shook himself and tried to figure out which one looked the most approachable. If they were tourists, dealing with a costumed man in the middle of a dark alley might be a new experience to them, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare civilians in front of Jason, who would laugh at Tim and then tell everyone they knew. The blond was out; he seemed to be recovering quick enough but Tim had been around Damian too long not to recognize the signs of someone about to absolutely lose their shit and overreact because other people had seen them in a vulnerable state. The Japanese man looked like Tim that time he realized his dissertation was due the next morning and he'd somehow forgotten to start it, all tense limbs and sweaty brows with his mouth opening and closing but unable to actually speak.

_Okay, demi god it is._

“Hello sir. You're okay now,” Tim said, making sure to emote (which was even harder than usual in the cowl) in case they couldn't understand him. “Do you speak English?”

“Um..oh! Yes. Yes I do,” the silver haired man said in lightly accented English. His silky voice hit Tim like a freight train, and if he hadn't been stupidly, life-consumingly in love with Jason since he was ten he'd have melted into a puddle of goo and offered to have the man's babies right there.

“ _Of course he speaks English,_ ” the blond one muttered in Russian. “ _Not everyone is an ignorant American._ ”

“ _No, some of us are just mouthy Russians_ ,” Tim shot back in the same language. He took great pride in the shocked expressions on Blondie and Silver's faces _and_ the fact that his accent was perfect.

_Not bad for an ignorant American._

“Yura, did you hear? The demon speaks Russian!” Silver looked utterly delighted. “ _Say something else_.”

“Um. _Are you okay? Did those men hurt you?_ ”

“What a wonderful accent! Where did you learn? Have you ever lived in Russia? Were you born there?”

“I...no, I was...” Tim clamped his mouth shut. Silver was way too disarming, he'd actually almost admitted he was born in Gotham, which was way too much information on his civilian identity to give to anyone they didn't trust. _Yeah, I definitely need sleep._ “Sir,” he said, doing his best to retake control of the conversation, “I need you to answer my questions.”

Silver opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Blondie (Yura?) cut him off.

“He doesn't have to answer shit. You're not a cop.”

“How do you know?” Silver asked. Both Tim and Yura stared at him in disbelief.

The Japanese man continued to shake.

“Holy _shit_!”

And that would be Jason, very loudly drawing attention to himself. _So much for dealing with this quietly._

“Oh my _god_ ,” Jason said, sounding awed and excited and _nothing_ like himself. “It's really _you_.”

He began walking quickly towards them.

Silver perked up. “Oh, you recognize me?”

He stepped around Tim, his face open and happy as he made to move towards Jason, but Jason brushed by him without a second glance and came to a stop in front of the Japanese man.

“You're Yuuri Katsuki,” Jason breathed.

And that was when the Japanese man finally found his voice.

“I LEFT MY WALLET AT THE HOTEL PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!”

Jason didn't seem to notice.

“You've won three Grand Prix Championships, two gold medals at World's, a gold at the Olympics...holy shit I can't believe I'm meeting Yuuri Katsuki.”

Jason let out a tiny squee. It was both endearing and annoying, because they'd once met Mark Hamill at Comic Con and Jason hadn't squeed then and how the heck can someone freak out about a figure skater but not the actual Luke freaking Skywalker?

“You're a fan of my Yuuri?” Silver asked.

Jason managed to tear his eyes away from Yuuri long enough to look at him. The shadows of the alley fell on his helmet in a way that made it seem like there was a face giving Silver an incredulous glare.

“Of course! He's the best figure skater in the world.”

Tim would swear for the rest of his life that actual sparkles and hearts hovered around Silver as he squealed. “I _know_! Isn't he perfect? He's so beautiful and talented and have you seen the way he looks in his skating outfits?”

“Hell yeah.” Tim frowned. He was _not_ getting jealous over a figure skater. “My whole sexual awakening as a kid revolved around his thighs.”

_I will end his life._

“Ew!” Yura snarled. “Fucking gross, you old pervert!”

Yuuri squeaked. “Don't antagonize him!”

Everyone ignored him.

“Shut up, Ice Twink of Russia, we're the same age.”

“What the _fuck_ did you call me you masked asshole!”

“Oh! You know Yurio too?” Silver asked.

“ _That's not my fucking name_.”

“Do you know me, then?” Silver asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. You're Yuuri's coach. Victor Knifeoff, right?”

Victor's mouth dropped open as Yura (Yurio?) burst out laughing.

“Shit! This is the best day ever. Katsudon has a fan that has no idea who you are. How does that feel, old man?”

“You...really don't know my name?” Victor(?) asked.

“How can he know me but not Victor?” Yuuri's voice was so small Tim wasn't even sure he was aware he was speaking out loud.

“Nah, I'm just fucking with you,” Jason said. “It's impossible to follow skating and not know who you are. Yuuri's better, though, no offense.”

Victor was instantly all smiles. “Why would I be offended? Yuuri is amazing!”

“Oh, gag. Why the hell did you stop those guys from shooting him?” Yurio glared at Victor and Jason, who were talking over each other gushing about how great Yuuri was while the man in question turned a shade of red Tim didn't even think was possible on a human. “Or me. Shoot me instead, I can't deal with this shit anymore.”

Tim felt deep and unrelenting kinship with Yurio.

“So, are you a figure skater too?” Tim asked.

“ _What_?” Yurio spun around, snarling. “How the hell can you not know who I am!?”

“I don't watch skating.” He didn't know if it was his answer or his deadpan, unconcerned delivery, but Yurio instantly deflated.

“Oh.”

“Sorry?”

“No. Whatever. Don't fucking...ugh.”

Tim was confused. “Did you...want me to be a fan?”

“No!” Yurio blustered. “It's just...it'd be kinda cool, you know. If you watched us skate.”

“Do you know who we are?”

“Duh.” Yurio rolled his eyes. “The Pig looked up a bunch of stuff about Gotham when we found out the GPF was gonna be here, you're all over the tourist stuff.”

“R-really?”

Wow, Tim had no idea Gotham thought so highly of Red Robin. He smiled softly. It was amazing that his city was finally embracing him—

Yurio snorted. “I never thought Batman would be so modest. Or so short.”

Now it was Tim's turn to deflate. “Oh.” He sighed. “I'm not—”

“So, what do I call you?” Victor asked, loudly, apparently done gushing with Jason. “I can't just call you Red Helmet and Cape Boy, right?”

“Oi! You idiot! How can you not know who they are?” Yurio yelled.

Victor frowned. The expression seemed somehow wrong on his face. “You mean you do?”

“Of course!” Yurio crossed his arms. “They're Batman and Robin!”

Tim tensed. Jason had come a long way from the days when he wanted to kill Bruce and maim Tim. It took a lot of time and effort and Pit detoxing, but these days it wasn't uncommon to see him show up for dinner at the manor and even have entire conversations with Bruce where neither of them looked constipated and no one reached for a weapon. (And that's not even getting into how much better things were between him and Tim. _So_ much better. Mmmm. Tim could now say he knew what it felt like to have his entire body licked by Jason Todd, which is something he'd been fantasizing about pretty much since he'd started puberty.) But there were still a few things that tended to set Jason off, and Tim had no idea how he would react to someone he'd never met before calling him Batman or Robin.

“Oh yeah?” Jason crossed his arms. “Which one is which?”

Yurio rolled his eyes. “He's Batman.” He jerked his thumb towards _Tim_ of all people and what the actual heck? “Duh.”

“Really?” Victor asked, cocking his head. “I thought Batman was supposed to be big and buff?”

He pointed a finger at Jason.

“I thought so too, but even if he's small and tiny, this one's Batman.”

And now Jason was laughing. Which, kind of the best reaction to this conversation they could hope for, but _still_.

“Hey, I'm only slightly below average height and weight for my age.”

Everyone ignored him.

“Are you sure?” Victor asked. “Because...”

He pointed at Jason again.

“Everyone knows Batman wears that hat-mask.” Yurio jerked his chin towards Tim's head.

“Cowl,” Tim corrected sullenly. Even with the padding in his suit this pixie could tell he was small. How depressing.

“Shut up! I know what it's called!” Yurio yelled. “ _And_ ,” he glared at Tim before turning back to Victor. “That one's obsessed with the Katsudon. No one who's as smart as Batman's supposed to be would pick _that_ as his favorite skater.”

Every word was dripping with disdain, but Yurio's body language was practically shouting the opposite.

_Oh._

“You like him,” Tim said.

Yurio's whole face turned red and he started to choke. If Tim hadn't still been smarting from the “small and tiny” comments, he would have stopped there. As it was...

“And you're jealous.”

Victor winced and took a step back. Yurio went completely still for half a second.

But only half a second.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN JEALOUS HE'S A STUPID FAT PIG WHO CAN'T EVEN LAND HIS JUMPS AND I BEAT HIS ASS MY FIRST YEAR IN SENIORS—!”

“You haven't beaten him since, though,” Jason said helpfully.

“I'M GOING THROUGH PUBERTY YOU ASSHOLE I'M GROWING AND IT'S FUCKING ME UP WHEN I'M DONE WITH THIS SHIT I'M GONNA WIPE THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH HIS STUPID FACE!”

“Ah, Y-Yurio...” Yuuri's voice was small and shaky, but it was enough to draw everyone's attention. “Y-you don't have to be so down on yourself. You almost beat me tonight, and you _did_ beat Victor.”

“My first bronze in ten years,” Victor said proudly, smiling softly at Yurio.

_Oh. They all really care about each other..._

Tim tried not to feel too jealous. He knew Bruce and everyone liked him...but he couldn't remember the last time anyone but Jason had been so openly supportive in front of other people.

Yurio scowled and looked away, his entire face beet red. “You shouldn't be so happy about that,” he mumbled.

“Why not?” Victor asked. “My two favorite people in the world beat me when I was giving it my all. This is one of the best nights of my life. Well, until the attempted robbery, of course.”

Yuuri's eyes went wide. “O-oh. Um. Are they...” He glanced back at the downed robbers.

“Don't worry,” Jason said. “They won't be bothering anyone ever again.”

Tim nodded. He'd scanned their faces with the lenses in his cowl, and they had all come up on the police wanted list for a wide variety of crimes, including escaping from Blackgate. The figure skaters wouldn't even have to stick around to give a statement if they didn't want to.

Yuuri paled and began to shake. Tim didn't really get why, but it had been so long since he reacted to being attacked like a normal person even he'd have to admit he had no idea how regular people acted in these kinds of situations. Still, he'd think someone as nervous as Yuuri apparently was would be happy to know his attackers would be in jail for a long time.

“So...” Jason was saying to Yuuri. “You won gold?”

Yuuri said nothing, but his slinking away from Jason was stopped when Victor wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his side. “Yes!” he exclaimed happily. “Gold,” he squeezed Yuuri, “silver,” he pointed at Yurio, who was still refusing to look at anyone, “and bronze!” he said, pointing at himself with his thumb and grinning.

“Holy shit, that's awesome.” Jason actually bounced on the balls of his feet. “Four consecutive golds in the GPF. Two more and you'll beat his”—he jerked a thumb at Victor—“record.”

If anything, Yuuri looked more dismayed at that than he did about the robbers.

“P-please don't say that...”

“I know!” Victor said at the exact same time. “Isn't it wonderful?”

Before they could go off on another squealfest about how amazing Yuuri was, Jason uncharacteristically began to fidget with his belt buckle.

 

“Hey, uh....do you...could you sign my helmet?” Jason asked, self-consciously rubbing the back of that very same helmet.

Yuuri's eyes widened.

“I...I....”

“Of course he can!” Victor said. “Yuuri is always happy to meet his fans.”

Yurio snorted. “Tell that to Minami,” he muttered under his breath.

“Ohmygod,” Jason breathed. “Uh. I mean. That's cool.” It was only then he seemed to notice how close to a panic attack his favorite skater was. “I can take it off if it'd be easier for you to sign?”

He reached up to disarm it.

“N-no!” Yuuri quickly covered his eyes and turned away. “I don't want to see your face! Please don't shoot me!”

“No, it's fine I promise. I've got another one, look.”

Jason took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, nervously straightening it out.

“Oh shit, he's hot,” the Yurio said softly. Tim felt equally smug and jealous.

“He's taken,” Tim said.

At the same time, Victor chimed in with “Oh look at that, there's a little mask on under the helmet. How clever.”

Jason shot Tim a knowing look. Tim rolled his eyes.

“I still say it's lame.”

Jason ignored him and turned back to Yuuri. Who, once he finally let Victor pry his hands away from his eyes, seemed...hesitant, to say the least. “Please?” Jason asked, holding his helmet out and pouting.

Yuuri stared at his lips long enough for both Victor and Tim to start frowning. “Um...okay...” He took a marker out of his pocket, which Tim thought was kind of weird. _Who carries a marker around like that? Does he really go out expecting to be harassed for autographs?_

It seemed a bit pretentious. But then again, he was apparently a famous athlete...

(Or as famous as a figure skater can be, Tim thought.)

Yuuri signed his name in shaky kanji.

“Oh my god,” Jason squeaked. “I can't believe Yuuri Katsuki's touching my helmet.”

Tim had to fight the urge to smack his boyfriend. “Calm down, fangirl.”

“Oh like you were any different when Mark Hamill shook your hand at that Star Trek thing.”

“That's different! And it's Star _Wars_ not Star—” Tim paused at Jason's smirk. “You're doing that on purpose.”

“Took you long enough.”

“I hate you.”

“Don't believe you,” Jason sang.

Tim crossed his arms and pointedly refused to respond. Jason grinned.

“Thanks, man,” he said to Yuuri. “This really means a lot.”

“You're welcome...”

Jason pursed his lips, then glanced at Yurio. “Can you sign it, too?”

“Wh-what?” Yurio cleared his throat. “I thought you liked the Katsudon?”

Tim wondered how rare a display of insecurity like this was from Yurio. If he _was_ anything like Damian, probably very.

“Fuck yeah, Yuuri's the best.” Jason shrugged. “Doesn't mean he's the only skater I like. Your Welcome to the Madness exhibition kicked ass and you were awesome at the Olympics. Besides, I got one of those Onsen on Ice posters back at my apartment and if I can't have both of you sign it getting my helmet signed is the next best thing.”

Yurio scowled when he mentioned the poster, but Tim could easily see his cheeks starting to pink again. “Fine. Gimme that.” He snatched the marker out of Yuuri's hand and signed his name in messy Cyrillic.

“Thanks,” Jason said with a grin. “Hey, is it true you named your cat Puma Tiger Scorpion?”

“You got a problem with that?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Hell no. That's fucking bad ass.”

“Fuck yeah it is!”

They both shared sharp grins.

“I wanted to name our fish AK-47 but Timmy wouldn't let me.”

“What? That's an awesome name for a fish!”

“Who's Timmy?” Victor asked.

Tim froze.

At this point, there was still a chance to cover Jason's slip up. All he needed to do was say “Timmy was my college roommate” or “Timmy is my step-dad” or anything that would minimize the chances of these figure skaters—or anyone who might be listening in—being able to deduce their real identities by their relationship to each other.

So of course what he did instead was look _right at Tim_ and say “Oh, shit.”

And because Tim was already _beyond_ out of patience with this whole night, what _he_ said in response while pinching the bridge of his nose was, “Goddammit Jason.”

Then they stared at each other in mounting _horror_.

“Oh,” Victor said blithely. “Are those your secret identities?”

Tim glared at Jason and shot him his fiercest _Fix This_ glower.

In response, Jason fired off a grappling line. “Thanks for the autographs! It was awesome meeting you, good luck at your Nationals!”

And then he was gone.

_Goddammit Jason..._

They all stared after Jason in varying degrees of disbelief.

“Do you think he would have wanted my autograph too?” Victor asked.

_I hate my life._

Tim crossed his arms and turned to face the figure skaters. “Don't tell _anyone_ what just happened,” he said in his best imitation Bat-growl. “If you do... _I'll find you_.”

He fixed them each with his most no-nonsense Red Robin glare before firing off his own line and making his escape.

Then he reported in to Bruce and totally threw Jason under the bus for revealing their identities.

Tim figured that made them even for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

“I can't believe we met actual superheroes! Or that we almost got robbed! What are the chances!”

Yuuri was still in a daze, walking unevenly and muttering, “Very high. We're in Gotham, Victor. I told you this would happen. It's 64% more likely that you'll experience violent crime in Gotham than anywhere else in the world. That includes actual warzones. Actual _warzones_ Victor. We took a walk through a warzone and almost _died_. Oh no, I think I'm gonna throw up now...”

“Oi! Not on me! Throw up on the old man!

“And that one in the helmet was so nice!” Victor said. “He was such a big fan of yours, Yuuri. I'm so glad we got to meet him. Maybe Minami-kun has some competition as leader of your fan club, eh?” He laughed.

“Victor, he _killed people_ right in front of us!” Yuuri said.

Victor frowned. “Huh. I suppose he did...”

“So fucking what?” Yurio crossed his arms and scowled. “They were gonna rob us, they got what they deserved. If they'd tried this shit at the rink I'd have skated over their damn throats!”

Victor thought about that for a moment. “Hm. You have a point. I guess...sometimes violence really does solve things?”

Yuuri moaned.

“You better remember you said that the next time JJ opens his stupid mouth,” Yurio said.

“Who?”

Yuuri wailed. “Please...please don't let any reporters hear you talk like this...”

“I wonder if your new fan would try to shoot Minami and take over your fan club?” Victor wondered.

Yurio was the only one who noticed the way Yuuri froze and started to shake. He winced, then, after glancing around to make sure no one was looking, wrapped a comforting arm around Yuuri's shoulder.

“Oh, look!” Victor brightened. “There are some reporters now!”

“V-Victor...wait...”

But Victor had already run off, hands waving over his head and a giant, heart shaped smile on his face.

“Hey! Hey everybody! Guess what!”

The moment they recognized him, the cameras started flashing and questions were being shouted. Victor ignored them all.

“We just met Batman and Robin!”

 


	2. Epilogue

Damian scowled when he finally found Drake sitting in the kitchen wearing old, ratty pajamas and slowly eating his way through a tube of cookie dough.

“Father tells me Todd revealed your identities to a bunch of civilians?”

Drake, the disgrace that he was, didn't even have the decency to pretend to be ashamed at his inability to control his beloved.

“Mmm hm,” he mumbled around a mouthful of dough.

“Disgusting.”

“Me oua Jashun?” Drake asked, not even attempting to swallow before speaking.

Utterly disgusting.

“ _You_.” He crossed his arms and glared. Drake took another bite.

Then he opened his mouth as wide as it would go, giving Damian a very clear look at more half-masticated cookie dough than he'd ever wanted to see.

And people called _Damian_ childish.

“You bring shame to Father's name.”

“Meh.” Drake shrugged and kept on eating.

“I hate you.” Damian scowled. “Where is Todd?”

Drake smirked. “Worried abou' 'im?”

“Absolutely not!” Damian reared up, like a cobra about to strike. “I merely want to tell him to his face that he's an embarrassment and that you both deserve each other.”

Which might not have been _entirely_ true, but he would cut out his own eyes before telling Drake the truth. He _wasn't_ worried. But he was... _apprehensive_. Out of everyone who passed through their manor, Damian had only ever been close with Grey...with _Richard._ It had been that way for years. And while he'd found friends outside of the family, Damian had long stopped expecting any kind of similar relationship with any of his Father's adopted charity projects.

It caught everyone by surprise, but no one more than Damian, when he became friends with Todd.

And they _were_ friends. It was hard to say how it happened, even in hindsight, but Damian had always blamed his mother's side of the family. They were both, in their own ways, forged by the choices Talia al Ghul made for them. They both felt like outsiders in what should have been their family. They both knew what it felt like to purposefully take a life and think the world better off for it. They both struggled to move beyond that kind of thinking, if not for their own sake, than for the sake of those they loved.

Maybe it wasn't so hard to see why they became close, after all.

Regardless, revealing their identities was a monumental screw up and Father would not be lenient. Not that he _should_ be. Discipline should always be enforced and Damian wholeheartedly approved of Father laying down the law, as Richard would say. But he had concerns about how Todd would handle a dressing down from Father, no matter how well deserved.

“I think he's in his room,” Drake said, having finally swallowed the revolting glop he'd been chewing.

“ _His_ room?”

Drake nodded solemnly. For all his faults, he knew Todd and cared about him, in his own inept Drake way. It wouldn't escape his notice the significance of Todd holing up in his old room.

Not did it escape Damian's notice that Drake was out here without him.

“He threw you out, didn't he?”

Drake narrowed his eyes, but it seemed to be an instinctual reaction. Once he realized Damian had kept the expected smugness and hostility out of his voice, his expression smoothed. But not before Damian saw a flash of hurt.

“He's...mad at me,” Drake mumbled. “I was the one who told Bruce on him.”

Damian fought the urge to roll his eyes. Ending the Cold War had been easier than Drake and Todd getting together, and it seemed like there were barely six months that passed before one of them became determined to mess the whole thing up.

And no matter how Damian felt about Drake, even he had to admit Todd was happier with him than he'd ever been without him.

Which meant it was up to him to fix their mess.

_Again._

Without another word he spun around and stalked out of the kitchen. Once he was sure he was out of earshot and Drake wasn't following him, he slowed and quietly made his way to Todd's old room. He paused at the door, then knocked.

“Fuck off!”

Damian scoffed. “I will do no such thing. Open this door at _once_ or I'll—”

The door opened. Before Damian could react, Todd dragged him inside and slammed it shut behind him. Then he locked it.

“Isn't it past your bedtime?” Todd asked, smirking.

Damian couldn't even be annoyed. He was too busy being surprised at Todd's demeanor. Not that he'd been expecting a sea of used tissues and tubs of half-eaten ice cream littering the floor, but Todd usually reacted very differently to his fights with Drake...

“Why aren't you crying?” he demanded.

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint?”

“That isn't what I meant! Drake is in the kitchen eating his ever increasing weight in salmonella ridden filth and—” Damian paused. “You aren't actually upset with him, are you?”

Now it was Todd's turn to scoff. “Nah, I'm pretty pissed actually...just not _as_ pissed as he thinks.”

“You're making him think you're more upset with him than you are?”

“Yup,” Todd said, obnoxiously popping the 'p'.

“You're unnecessarily upsetting Drake.” Damian nodded. “I approve.”

Todd laughed out loud. “Don't get too excited. Once I finish watching these last few free skates I'm gonna go let him off the hook.” Todd's eyes gleamed. “And if he's really getting hyped up on that much sugar the make up sex is gonna be—”

“Stop!” Damian snarled and punched Todd in the shoulder.

Todd laughed again. The moron.

“Fine. Since there's no need to repair your ill-advised and unhealthy relationship, I'm going to leave.”

“Hey, hold up.”

Against all better judgment, Damian did as he was asked.

“You wanna finish this up with me?” Todd gestured towards the laptop that was sitting open on his desk. On the screen was a paused video of...

“Is that ice skating?”

“Figure skating,” Todd corrected. “The Grand Prix Final. I missed it because of patrol but it got uploaded pretty fast. Some of these skater fanclubs are creepy as fuck, but they're great for illegal streams.”

Damian frowned as a small detail occurred to him. “Are you watching the civilians you exposed yourselves too?”

It took him a minute to realize why Todd was laughing at him yet again, and this time his punch was accompanied by an utterly degrading blush.

“Come on,” Todd said when he'd gotten his breath back and, against all better judgment, Damian hadn't left. “Watch it with me. I bet you ten bucks you end up liking it.”

Damian almost refused, but honestly, he had nothing better to do and he was somewhat curious about this sport Todd was so enamored with. So with a show of great reluctance, he pulled another chair over to Todd's desk and took a seat, imperiously gesturing for him to resume the video.

Todd was...not wrong. Damian had been skating before, when Richard dragged him and Father down to the pond in the park during wintertime for some ill-advised family bonding, but the flailings of the children and parents (and Richard and Father and... _fine_ Damian as well) at the makeshift rink was absolutely _nothing_ like what Todd was watching. There was grace and artistry and beauty. It was like watching the purest form of athletic art, strapped to skates and placed on cold, unforgiving ice. Damian found himself in awe of what he was witnessing. He couldn't even be upset at so openly showing his emotions, not when—

“Who is _that_?” he breathed as an angel glided out onto the ice.

“Yuri Plisetsky,” Todd answered. “Why, you like him?”

_He is perfection. I would conquer the entire world just to lay it at his feet._

“He's all right, I suppose— _did you see what he just did!_ ”

“Yeah. I saw it all right.”

Damian didn't even care that Todd was most likely mocking him. He was too busy being entranced.

All too soon it was over.

“That's it?” Damian asked. “Where is he going? Why was it so short?”

“There's a time limit, babybat. And this is the free skate. It's the longer one.”

_Why would anyone put limits on such unmatched beauty? They should be begging him to grace their unworthy eyes with—_

“Did you say the _longer one_? As in, there is more than just this? There are more videos of—” _Angelic perfection._ “—Yuri Plisetsky?”

“Tons.”

Damian barely held in a gasp. “And we aren't watching them _why_?”

“Because the Final's not over,” Todd said. “I wanna see—”

“Oh please, as if anyone is going to beat what we just saw. They should be throwing the gold medal at Yuri Plisetsky's feet and begging him to take it.”

“He got silver, actually.”

Damian had been a vigilante for years, and before that he was an active part of his grandfather's assassin cult, and he had never in his life heard of or seen perpetrated a more heinous crime.

“Blasphemy. Who stole his medal? I want to see the fiend's face.”

“I wish I was fucking recording this,” Todd muttered. “Babybird's never gonna believe me.”

“What?”

“Nothing. The guy who won gold's coming up next. And if you think Plisetsky's good, you're gonna lose your _shit_ over Yuuri Katsuki.”

Damian wrinkled his nose. “They share the same name?”

“Yep.”

“Hmph.”

Damian stared intently at the screen. He would see for himself if this so-called Yuuri Katsuki deserved to share a name with perfection.

Three minutes later Damian was grudgingly impressed.

“So?” Todd asked. “What did you think?”

“Passable,” Damian admitted. “Yuri Plisetsky was still better.”

Todd chuckled. “You know what? I'm not even gonna argue. You want me to put together a Plisetsky playlist for you?”

“Yes!” Damian cleared his throat. “I mean, if you want.”

Todd smirked. “No problem babybat. I know the perfect routine to start with.” Todd's sinister expression would have been concerning if Damian hadn't been nearly vibrating with impatience to see more of the angel known as Yuri Plisetsky. “Welcome to the Madness is gonna blow your fucking _mind_.” He paused. “Or your load.”

“Disgusting.” Damian scowled. “Show me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Three hours later found Jason and Tim in their own bed at their own apartment, naked and sweaty but relaxed after probably the best make up sex they'd ever had.

“I really am sorry, you know,” Tim said softly into Jason's chest.

Jason ran his fingers through Tim's sweat-damp hair. “I know. We should probably change your name to Red Snitch, though.”

“Jason...”

“Red Canary?”

“I'm being serious!”

Jason sighed. “I know, I know.” He kissed Tim's forehead. “It's okay though. Bruce wasn't even that bad. He just did the whole 'disappointed dad' thing and made me get Babs to monitor their phones and shit. I don't think even Bruce is paranoid enough to seriously think a bunch of figure skaters are going to figure out who we are even if they do know our names.”

“Hmm.” Tim traced idle patterns on Jason's bare chest. “I found out from a flip.”

“You found out from Dickie's butt.”

“I was nine, Jason. Trust me I wasn't looking at _anyone's_ butt.” He gently scratched down Jason's abs and purred, “Not until _you_ inherited the panties, at least.”

“Fuuuuck,” Jason groaned. His dick twitched, a bit, couldn't quite rally for another go. “Nope. Totally spent.”

Tim chuckled softly.

“Oh,” Jason said. “Speaking of spent, did I tell you I showed Damian some Yuri Plisetsky videos and he jizzed his pants?”

Tim stilled. “Oh. Oh god. Oh my _god_ Jason _why would you tell me that_?”

“It's funny!”

“Why would you tell me that when we're _naked_ and _in bed_ and we just _had sex_?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it's even funnier.”

“Shut _up_. Oh my god Jason how do you even know? No, wait, don't answer that I don't want to—”

But Jason, of course, didn't listen. “You know that part in Welcome to the Madness where Plisetsky's shirt nearly comes off while he's sliding across the ice?”

“No. What? No I have literally no idea what you're—”

“When babybat saw it he screamed, his whole face turned the same color is my helmet, and he ran into the bathroom and wouldn't come out.”

Tim shuddered. “Which bathroom? I'm never going in there again.”

Jason just laughed.

“So,” Tim said later on when Jason had finally stopped teasing him. “Do you really think there's no way they can find out who they are? You know them better than I do.”

“Doubt it.”

“You're _sure_?”

Jason smiled. “It's adorable that you're worried, but look. They're all amazing figure skaters, but I doubt any of them have what it takes to find out who we are, even with the first names. 'Tim and Jason' aren't exactly rare and exotic in this country. Besides, did _any_ of them seem like they were at all interested in learning more about us? Victor Nikiforov didn't even know who Batman and Robin were, for fuck's sake.”

Tim laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess you're right. And Yuuri Katsuki looked like he was going to pee himself when you took your helmet off.”

“Hey! He wasn't that bad,” Jason defended.

“Yes, he was.”

“Fuck...” Jason sighed. “I can't believe I finally met Yuuri Katsuki and I end up scaring the crap out of him.”

Tim hugged him. “You got his autograph, though.”

“Fuck yeah I did.”

“Right on your helmet. Which has all sorts of phallic implications I'm not even going to get into.”

Jason leered. “You can sign my helmet _any_ day, babybird.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Tim said, laughing. “You are literally the worst.”

“Nah. I'm actually a pretty good catch.”

Tim sighed happily. “Yeah. Yeah, you kinda are.”

And so they both eventually fell asleep, happy with their repaired relationship and secure in the knowledge that there was no chance their identities were actually compromised.

 

* * *

 

Two days later and four thousand miles away in St Petersburg Russia, Yuri Plisetsky stared at the blinking cursor in the Google search bar and wondered...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, you'll now notice this is part of a series along with this spiffy new epilogue, so for everyone who commented and wanted more, rejoice! For more you shall have. As you can probably tell by my clever and subtle hint at the end there, the next part in the series will be very Yurio centric. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with regards to pairings, but as you can probably tell I'm leaning in the Dami/Yuri direction. I have no idea when that part will come out, and I make no promises about how long I'll be able to keep everyone in character, but I hope you guys enjoy this silly little epilogue and the weirdness to come. Thanks for all your comments and kudos! You guys are the best. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyyy this was fun. I might do a sequel one shot about Victor and the Yuris visiting Gotham again and meeting up with more of the Batfam. If that sounds like something you'd want to see, comment and lemme know. Also open to the idea of pairing Yurio with a DC character, or maybe having them bring Otabek or Minami or someone from the YOI-verse along that I don't mind shipping him with, if I get any strong feelings about it in the comments. Either way, tell me if you guys liked this or not. I'm a slut for crossovers so I'm pretty excited about writing my first one ever. Hopefully I'm not the only one interested, lol


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